


Halcyon Days

by followthefreedomtrail



Series: All Roads Lead to You [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Betrayal, But I’ll redeem it, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, I promise, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Mild Sexual Content, Overall sadness, Quick Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-02 19:01:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17269310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followthefreedomtrail/pseuds/followthefreedomtrail
Summary: “You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.”Julie de Lespinasse***In a lot of ways, this series is AU but in a lot of ways, it’s not.





	1. Hello and Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to edit this piece and make it part of a series. This is part one and is pretty much a prologue for the rest of it. It's not necessary to the overall plot but it WILL make it 4933855824 times better if you read this first, you know, because character development and all that.
> 
> Pretty much every sole ever fights with Danse because they have very different values than his but I decided to take it all the way back to Rivet City and this story kills me a little.
> 
> xoxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse and Nora meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This is a long one.
> 
> Most chapters won’t be so long. Or maybe they will. I tried to stay true to canon at least in regards to the Brotherhood and Danse’s history and all of that but it’s possible I didn’t. Oh well. I also didn’t give Danse a first name because he’s just Danse to me.
> 
> I have a good idea of where I’m taking this but I’ll also listen to requests if there’s any specific part of the story you really want me to write that I wasn’t planning on.

**April 3, 2287**

“If you’re gonna kill me, just do it,” she spat.

His eyes narrowed at the challenge, dug his forearm further into her chest and pressed the barrel of his rifle closer to her heart. He could kill her. He _should_. Protocol. Duty. And maybe it wasn’t even her. Just some other agent and he'd been mistaken. He scanned her face, willing himself to believe she was someone else entirely. It would be much easier that way. But it was all there; dark eyebrows that drew together angrily, the scar slanting up the left side of her face, long strands of thick brown pulled back away from the matching shade of her eyes, the large and completely impractical silver hoops she wore, waiting to be ripped away by the frenzied swing of a feral, the bandana over her nose obscuring the other half of her face.

Most certainly Nora.

“Make up your mind! You’re terrifying her."

He assessed the small girl. She couldn’t have been more than eight years old, trembling, crying silently, frozen in place as she glanced frantically from Danse to Nora and back again.

“Is that a synth?”

She said nothing. Couldn't, maybe, if the child’s mind had been wiped. She wouldn’t want to reveal what she'd worked to strip away. Not this way.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the Railroad operated, in truth. He didn’t need to know. They had already committed that cardinal sin: failing to recognize the fundamental distinction between synths and humans. Anything further was intolerable but as far as Danse was concerned, allowing the abominations to exist in the same spaces as humans was damning. It would be the undoing of humanity, he was willing to bet his life on it. They believed in coexistence; real, flesh and blood seamlessly interspersed with cleverly disguised machines. But technology needed to be mastered, controlled and used to benefit humanity.

So it should have been much easier to put them down. The synth looked young-and he was almost positive it was a synth-but justice would be quick and the benefits far outweighed the costs. If he closed his eyes when he fired, he probably wouldn’t lose any sleep at all over the incident. It was what the Brotherhood demanded. His life’s work and he was damn proud of it.

And Nora...

God. He felt her chest rise and fall quickly under his arm, betraying the fear that her expression stubbornly refused to display. If her words were any tell, she didn’t believe he would hurt her. But her heart thumped hard against his skin and her eyes had softened into pleading, appealing to a history he had skillfully buried years ago.

Buried, yes. But not yet dead.

Shame washed over him as he stepped back. Caved. Mercy but it felt so much more like giving in to her and the weakness that he felt in his bones was asking him why.

Nora didn’t move as she steadied her breath, their eyes locked. From his peripheral, he saw the synth run up to her and embrace her leg, burying its face there and away from Danse. Nora’s hand reflexively, tenderly fell to the synth’s back. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“You’re traveling alone.”

Her face fell. “Yeah well. I wasn’t at first.” She picked the child up, still refusing to break eye contact. “Mutants.”

Sympathy welled up in Danse and his anger boiled. Was she playing him? He didn’t want to feel any softness for the woman. She knew about Cutler and he entertained the idea that she was using that information against him. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he’d never known her to be so calculating. It was likely the truth. Still, that had been years ago. What did he really know about the woman who stood in front of him now?

She had a commanding presence, much more so than before. He supposed it was her line of work that birthed such a change in her demeanor-she stood taller, spoke more confidently, moved more cautiously. She had the air of a leader and Danse briefly wondered how high into the Railroad hierarchy she had ascended.

Nora turned to move out of the alley, satisfied with the conflict she’d created in him, that he was sure was plainly plastered across his face.

He grabbed her shoulder and forced her back, hand sliding down her bicep, gripping tightly and channeling all of his bitterness into his grasp on her. He leaned in, towering over her, until she could feel his breath fanning over her face. Her expression remained blank. “If you ever come this close to the airport again, you will be killed.”

“Of course,” she breathed. Although her mouth was hidden behind grey fabric, he saw the creases of a smile carve into her eyes as she pivoted and disappeared behind the brick corner of an ancient building.

He ran his hand through his hair, fuming.

He hoped he never saw her again.

*

**June 20, 2275**

Recruitment for the Brotherhood of Steel was near effortless in Rivet City. The Brotherhood had provided enough for the capital wasteland to gain the people’s trust and the result was a steady influx of initiates willing to live and breathe for their cause.

Danse himself had mulled the idea over for a few days before confirming his decision. In the end, it was Cutler that had convinced him. “Beats selling this shit, doesn’t it?” he’d said one day as they’d closed their stand.

He hadn’t offered any protest.

He didn’t hate being a merchant but he was young, twenty-two and restless, and the idea of something entirely different, something dangerous even, was tempting. Brotherhood life meant provision and purpose; something beyond simple self-preservation. When he and Cutler had signed up, a sense of destiny previously unknown to him settled into his core. Signing his name felt like righting his world and ever since then, he’d been counting down the days until his move to the Citadel.

The day before their departure found him antsy. They had little inventory left and determined to sell it all before leaving, Cutler was engaging with every settler that walked past but Danse could be bothered to do little more than tap his left foot erratically while managing their last funds.

His eyes scanned the settlers passing through the market. Blending in, entirely ordinary, unremarkable. An easier life but a plain one. For someone else but not Danse.

He sucked in a breath when his eyes found her again, never hidden from him even in a crowd.

Danse was not an inexperienced man. He was aware that his appearance was generally attractive and had, when he was younger, taken advantage of the attention it got him. As he got older, he’d settled down somewhat, spending a year with a woman named Leigh. She’d come to his stand to purchase gears and the relationship progressed quickly from there. He’d never promised her much; the Brotherhood was one of the first commitments he’d made. But when he expressed his desire to enlist, she’d objected.

“I barely see you as it is! Now you’re planning to live somewhere else too?”

He’d frowned, asked her to look at the capital wasteland and see why he needed to do this. She couldn’t and it spelled the end for them.

Leigh suggested time apart and he’d agreed. His sense of duty was stronger than anything she’d ever made him feel and he knew it wouldn’t be so hard to move on. Their relationship, like many, had grown stale in the short time they’d spent together. Largely because, he supposed, they had grown in different directions. She was content in Rivet City while Danse could only describe it as confining, the place he lived but not home. He’d known she wasn’t who he’d want forever with months ago but it was easier to stay-that is, until she’d objected to the Brotherhood of Steel.

If she was worried about his attention, she’d be crushed to learn it had wandered long ago to the woman who was now next door, bartering with the arms vendor.

He was always careful not to stare. What was the use now anyway? He was as good as gone from this settlement. When he’d finished his accounting, he dared a glance at her. She wasn’t looking at him-she was laughing. Eyes closed, head tilting back, hysterical laughter.

Averting his gaze, he closed the notebook in front of him and stood, stretching. He mumbled to Cutler that he was going to take a break, walk around and hopefully clear his head. By the time he’d stepped around the counter, the woman was gone. Fleeting glimpses were all he was ever allowed. It was only a month prior that he’d first seen her and where she came from, what brought her to Rivet City, and how long she was staying were all still unknown. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he grasped his pack of cigarettes and pulled one out to light it.

He walked through Rivet City, smoke cycling through his lungs. Leigh would be easily left behind but Danse was a sucker for a good mystery.

*

Anyone who didn't know better would swear the Muddy Rudder was Danse's favorite place. It was dim and the alcohol was shit, but it was what they had. It was often full and Danse and Cutler knew almost everyone there at any given time. Danse found comfort in its simplicity and the thought that this was his last night in the bar until God-knows-when was a somber one. When he entered, friendly faces wished him and Cutler well.

“The wasteland needs the Brotherhood.”

“Ad Victorium, soldiers.”

“A noble cause. Thank you.”

When he noticed the woman standing at the bar, he froze. Cutler stopped and turned when he noticed his friend no longer in step with him. He shot him a questioning glance until he followed his gaze until he saw what had him temporarily stunned.

“Oh, her again,” he mumbled, combing through his cropped blonde hair.

Danse cleared his throat. It had been a while since he'd approached a woman and he wasn’t certain she was the one he wanted to test the waters with. “Maybe we should drink somewhere else.”

Cutler raised his eyebrows. “No way. I’m not leaving. But I _will_ buy your first drink and make sure you actually talk to her tonight.” He flashed a wide smile. “You know. Because I’m a good friend.”

Danse fumbled for a cigarette and pulled out a chair at the farthest table away from the woman, back facing her.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll get those drinks.” Cutler strode over to the bartender, mere feet away from the stranger. She didn’t look at him, choosing instead to watch intently as she swirled her drink around in her glass.

He lit the cigarette between his lips, calming as the nicotine invaded his lungs.

Cutler returned with two glasses of whiskey, placing one in front of Danse. “Drink up. Liquid courage and all.” With a single, swift tilt of their hands, both men downed the contents of their glasses and dropped them back down to the table with a dramatic thump. Cutler made a face. “I hope I like that one day.”

Danse nodded in agreement. He wasn’t sure if age would mature his taste but he hoped he could one day enjoy the harsh drink burning down the back of his throat. They never drank for the taste anyway, always for the warmth that inevitably followed. The soothing heat spread throughout his core and relaxed his shoulders. He'd been unaware he’d been holding them so rigidly.

“I’m waiting for Amy.” Cutler shifted in his chair impatiently. The redhead was a good match for him: loud, funny, beautiful. Cutler hadn’t planned for their relationship to continue as long as it did. The wasteland was bleak and life was lived one day at a time. But after three good months, Cutler found himself planning his future around her, unnerved by how quickly everything had changed. “You should go talk to her though,” his head tilted toward the woman at the bar. “Now.”

A last pull from his cigarette and Danse was stubbing it into the ashtray in the middle of the table. He took a steadying breath. Come tomorrow, he’d no longer have to see her if he embarrassed himself. He made his way past groups of socializing settlers, the smell of alcohol and smoke wafting through the air. A hand squeezed his shoulder and turned to nod at a few of his old classmates. For a moment, he considered staying and talking, procrastinating his pursuit of-what was her name? He at least needed to learn that tonight if only for his sanity. When he was right behind her, he paused, unsure of his next move. He’d never imagined what he would say to her, never thought they would meet.

He hadn’t prepared for this.

Suddenly something collided with his back and he was thrust into her, hands catching himself on the bar, knocking her glass from her hand. It teetered, circling until it settled a few inches from her, nearly emptied. Her head snapped up once she was sure her glass was stationary to see who had disturbed her. Danse expected to be met with anger, to be dismissed immediately, but her eyes were wide and her mouth parted slightly in surprise.

They both turned at the muffled laughter behind them, Cutler clutching his stomach and leaning on another man for support. An apologetic Amy stood beside him now. “Sorry, Danse, I just got here! I couldn’t stop him!”

His cheeks burned and he turned back to the woman. She searched him in silence and Danse wanted to explain but his throat felt dry.

She spoke first.

“Your friend pushed you into me.”

He nodded.

She leaned back, face softening and lips pulling up. “That’s good. You’ve been staring at me for a while now, I didn’t think you were going to ever introduce yourself.”

His blush deepened. Despite his attempts at discretion, he'd been caught but she was flirting, encouraging him. “I’m Danse.”

“Nora. You knocked my drink over. I think you should buy me a new one.”

He mimicked her playful expression. “It’s only fair. What are you drinking?”

They had been raising their voices to be heard over the clamor of drunken conversation and music that filled the bar so even though it was purely practical when she leaned closer to answer his question, the proximity still electrified him. “It’s just wine.”

“Just wine." It suited her, he thought. Classy and strange and soft.

By the time they both had another drink, he’d grown bolder. One hand on the small of her back, he ushered her back to his table. Two more men, old friends of his, had joined in the time he was away. He greeted Miles and Emery with firm handshakes and introduced Nora.

“Nora, I hope you can forgive me but Danse has a hell of a crush on you and if I hadn’t gotten involved, I would’ve had to deal with him regretting it for the next few months,” Cutler winked, shuffling a deck of cards.

She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“We joined the Brotherhood of Steel and we leave tomorrow. I couldn’t let him sulk through training.”

Danse sighed. Cutler was losing his filter. He hadn’t told Nora, didn’t really want to at all after Leigh’s reaction.

She met his eyes with a half-smile. “You didn’t tell me, soldier boy.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well we’re only initiates-“

“Right now,” Miles corrected.

“I only need a few months to make Elder,” Cutler boasted, prompting an eye roll from Amy.

“Who wants that job? That’s so much pressure, all those lives in your hands,” she mumbled, hand cradling her chin.

“Just deal already, Elder,” Emery shot, the group of boys bursting out into boisterous laughter.

Amy straightened in her chair. “Do you know how to play poker, Nora?”

“Not really.”

The men exchanged glances to Danse’s chagrin. No doubt they planned to hustle her.

“It’s okay, Nora, you don’t have to bet,” he assured her.

“I want to,” she winked. “Someone explain it to me.”

Cutler went over the basics while she listened intently. Danse frowned, shooting him threatening glances that went unnoticed.

“Okay. I think I got it,” she nodded confidently.

“Great.” Emery took a swig of his beer. “Let’s play.”

Amy opted to sit and watch, offering to help Nora if she needed it. After Nora lost the first few rounds, the redhead moved her chair beside her to assist. The two exchanged quiet words and Amy nodded and returned to her place beside Cutler.

By the fourth round, everyone was well into their fifth drinks. Nora glanced at her hand and slid all of her caps into the center.

Every eye was on her and the group was silent.

She drummed her fingers on the table. “What? I think I've got it now.”

Miles briefly flicked his eyes to Danse. “You’re not that good at lyin’, sweetheart.”

She shrugged. “Go all in then.”

His impulse control had drowned in his third whiskey and he muttered “alright” as he surrendered his caps.

Cutler and Emery joined him, calling her bluff with slightly more conservative majorities of their caps.

When she turned her gaze to Danse, she was stifling a smile, daring him with her eyes to follow the others. He shook his head, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m out.”

The boys groaned.

“C’mon,” Miles pleaded. “Bet somethin’, she’s smilin' too much to be tellin’ the truth.”

Danse rose from his chair. “More wine?”

“Sure,” she laughed.

Even from across the bar, Danse could hear the pained cries of men who just lost their caps when Nora revealed her hand. When he returned with their drinks, she was pushing the caps away.

“I don’t want your money,” she insisted. “I think the real prize here was the valuable lesson you learned tonight.”

“How in the hell,” Miles lamented into his hands.

“Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve been playing for a while.”

“Maybe you could teach him how to play sometime,” Cutler said through the cigarette between his teeth.

The table dissolved into laughter, Emery nearly falling off his chair.

Miles attempted to look unamused but the corners of his mouth pulled up against his will. “You’re dangerous,” he wagged a finger at Nora.

She beamed. “Who, me?”

The guys began picking up their caps, complaining and making jokes at each other’s expense but Danse hardly noticed. Nora was staring up at him, gaze flitting rapidly between his eyes his mouth and making his breath hitch in his throat. Before he could overthink it, his finger was at her chin, angling her mouth to meet his. The first kiss was firm and hard, but when he pulled back slightly she leaned forward and caught him again, this time sliding her tongue over his teeth.

He was far too intoxicated to consider decorum.

He pulled her into his lap without breaking away from her lips and her hand slid into his hair, the other to his chest. He only vaguely registered the laughs beside him and the mocking applause his friends offered as he moved his hands down her arms and to her hips and he certainly didn’t hear when someone appeared beside him until she raised her voice.

“ _This_ is what you’re doing on your last night in town?”

He jumped, forced his eyes up to Leigh’s.

Hazel filled with hurt and surprise but more than anything, fury. Her arms folded over her chest and she scoffed. “Classy, Danse.”

“Who is this?” Nora questioned.

“Leigh,” Danse sighed, attempting to diffuse the situation.

It was much too late for that.

Leigh’s fist crunched against Nora’s jaw before he could intervene.

“What the hell?!” Nora cried out, hands cradling her face. “What’s wrong with you?!”

Danse stood, one hand on Nora’s shoulder in apology. “Leigh,” he thundered.

Her wide eyes locked on Nora, hand over her mouth, shocked at her outburst.

“I think you should leave.” He stepped towards her, blocking Nora from her view.

Leigh glared up at him for a long moment and then she reached up, the violent slap of her palm to his cheek loud enough to fill the room. “Have a good night, Danse,” she said through gritted teeth, leaving before Brock got involved.

When she was finally through the door, he realized the whole bar had gone quiet.

He sat, face flushed and cheek burning where she’d struck him but the embarrassment was worse. Next to him, Nora opened and closed her jaw, cursing. He ran a gentle thumb over purpling skin. “It’s going to bruise.”

She studied the floor. “What was that?”

“Leigh and I... used to date.”

Nora laughed, short and breaking off shy of actual amusement. “I gathered as much.” Her irises were boring into his now, nearly black in the dim lighting. “Why did she hit me?”

“I... suppose she didn’t expect me to move on so quickly." He took her free hand in his. “I’m sorry, Nora. I had no idea she’d do something like that.”

Nora leaned back in her chair, judging his answer. She sighed. “You know... you’re a lot of trouble, soldier boy.”

He knew. Danse let out a breath and squeezed her hand, using his other to brush her hair behind her ears, where silver hoops dangled; odd, for the wasteland. Hardly anyone but raiders bothered with piercings and even fewer had the means to purchase such flashy jewelry. He didn’t know much about her at all and he wanted to but he was doing a damn good job of ruining his chances.

She forgave him, evidently, mood shifting with the change in music and suddenly, she blurted, “Dance with me.”

He nodded, not much for dancing himself but he owed her.

They were surrounded by other couples in the empty space that served as a crude dance floor, most too intoxicated to keep any rhythm in their movements and they were no better. It didn’t matter; they were quick to give up and it wasn’t long before he had backed her up against a wall, mouths moving in synch and hands feverishly grasping at each other.

He didn’t know how long he kissed her, either. All he knew was they were too soon interrupted by Belle Bonny.

“We’re closing. You’ll have to do that somewhere else.”

He should’ve felt embarrassed but he was still inebriated enough to feel a pride instead. Arm around Nora’s shoulders, he guided them out of the bar where he found Cutler and Amy.

“Hey,” Cutler nudged Danse. “I’m uh... taking Amy back to our place so don’t come back for a while.”

“Sure,” Danse mumbled, patting him on the shoulder. Cutler wished Nora a good night and, arm in arm with Amy, stumbled home.

Nora cleared her throat. “Danse.”

“Hmmm?”

“Take a walk with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They walked around Rivet City, sobering up, laughing, hands finding every excuse to touch one another. Eventually they settled in a secluded corner of the old ship, seated side by side on the ground.

Danse pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Nora.

She shook her head. “I don’t smoke.”

He placed the smoke in his mouth, leaning away from Nora to light it. He was sure after the events of the night that a single cigarette couldn’t offend her but he wouldn’t take any more risks.

She giggled and he tilted his head, eyes curious. “You know you’re gonna have to kick that in the Brotherhood. They’re not too fond of drugs of any sort.”

“Quitting would be nice.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “As long as you know, soldier boy.”

He chuckled, blowing more smoke into the atmosphere. “Where are you from, Nora?”

For a few moments, she did little more than fidget with her hands. “The middle of fucking nowhere. Wastelander through and through.”

Her tone was aggressive and he sensed he’d pried too far too soon. He placed his hand on her knee in an attempt to comfort her. 

“You?” she asked.

“I... don’t know. Here, I suppose. I don’t remember much of my childhood.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

He got up to stub the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray and resumed his position beside her.

Nora swung a leg over his and straddled him. She swayed just slightly and his hands gripped the sides of her thighs to steady her. She studied his face intently and he wondered what she was looking for, if he had it. “Why did you join the Brotherhood?”

A silent moment passed and he pondered her question. He had his reasons but no one had asked yet. He struggled to articulate them. “I just... this can’t be it. The people in the wasteland are suffering and if I don’t do anything... if I stay here and scrounge to get by...”

Her expression was heavy and she nodded. An understanding passed between them, that neither could stand to live a life devoid of real meaning or sit idly by while others suffered.

He felt in that moment that he could very easily fall in love with her.

She readjusted herself so that she was leaning against him, head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He hesitantly reached up to stroke her hair and when she relaxed further into him, a contented noise escaped him.

It wasn’t long until both were asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably upload frequently at first so don't be surprised if you see a few new chapters in a short span of time. I'm just excited. Thanks for reading!


	2. Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse and Cutler return to Rivet City on leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we’re gonna spend a few chapters getting attached only to inevitably have our hearts ripped out.
> 
> xoxo

**November 18, 2275**

Nora glanced at the clock.

3:56.

One hour and four minutes left until close. She sighed.

Rivet City Bank was small and suffocating and the work itself was less than thrilling. Her boss, Claude, was the oldest man she’d ever met, cynical as hell and a stickler for rules but Nora supposed she would do anything to avoid mercenary work again.

She was good at her job, did what she was told and followed procedure, so for the most part, Claude left her alone and that was all she could really ask for. She was safe and self-sufficient in Rivet City and despite the monotony of her life, she had to admit she was happy.

If she was honest, Danse was a large part of that.

She didn’t expect the night they'd shared to go much further than that. And then he wrote her, letter upon letter, detailing his training and making promises for his return. She had no idea what he liked so much about her, why he was holding out for her despite the distance between them. All she knew is he was due back any day and she couldn’t stand how close she was to being held again.

3:59.

One hour and one minute.

She groaned audibly.

The front doors creaked opened and a balding man hobbled up to her counter. “Evening. I’d like to make a deposit.”

She grabbed a deposit slip and a pen and pushed them towards him. “Of course. Just fill that out,” she muttered.

When the door opened again, she didn't even glance up, just uttered “be right with you” in her most convincing impression of pep.

“Actually, miss, it’s really important.”

She looked up through her lashes, the corners of her mouth pulling up at the familiar voice.

Cutler stood before her, Danse slightly behind him at his elbow. “We have to make a deposit.”

The older gentleman at the counter looked at them incredulously. “I’m sure she can help you next, sir.”

He ignored the man, slowly approaching with a bag of caps. “It’s a lot. I mean not a ton but whatever amount you would think is impressive, that’s how much it is.”

Nora’s smile grew, the kind that would make her cheeks sore later, eyes locked onto Danse who returned it from across the room.

“Young man-“ the customer at the counter started.

“But we’re not going to deposit it all of course,” Cutler continued. “We need some for... well it’s not important. Okay, if you must know, we have dinner plans tonight with some beautiful women at, uh... what time do you get to leave this place?”

She raised an eyebrow, thoroughly entertained and intrigued. “5:30.” 

“At six,” he finished, turning to glance over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Danse?”

“Six it is.”

She was sure she looked like a fool, grinning ear to ear. “Well actually I have plans,” she lied. “You really should’ve booked me last week.”

Cutler was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “That won’t work. I’m afraid you’ll have to clear your schedule. I mean, it’s not everyday we’re in town.”

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Gary’s Galley, 6pm, woman!” Cutler shouted as he turned to walk out the door. Danse saluted her and turned to follow his friend out.

She watched as the door closed, face alight and a blush creeping up her chest.

“Excuse me, I need to deposit these caps!”

She’d nearly forgot the customer in front of her.

“Yes, right,” she sighed. She eyed the clock.

4:03.

One hour and fifty seven minutes.

*

The cracked mirror in Nora’s room was a luxury, even broken as it was. She tilted her head and examined her reflection, splintered and warped by the missing shards, debating whether or not a dress was too formal. Gary’s Galley wasn’t upscale but it was a special occasion and it warranted something extra.

She wouldn’t be satisfied with anything and she knew as much. She hadn’t been on a real date in her life. Men had made passes at her too many times to count and it had always seemed that the wasteland version of romance was as crude as the landscape itself. Even those who bought her drinks were merely bribing her to spend the night. No one had _ever_ bought her dinner-a more romantic gesture, one without string attached-and the anxiety tumbling in her stomach mounted as she neared the restaurant. 

When she stepped through the doorway, she was a deep shade of red. She spied the two soldiers and Amy already seated and gravitated towards them. Danse’s eyes flicked towards the movement and his smile deepened.

She took the seat next to him and nervously brushed her hair behind her ears. Her voice sounded much more confident than she felt. “Danse.”

“Nora,” he nodded, extending his arm around the back of her chair. He was looking at her like she was important to him and she couldn’t fathom why. Another first.

She hesitantly broke his gaze to acknowledge Cutler and Amy, who both looked amused at Danse’s shamelessly smitten expression.

The four spent time catching up between ordering drinks and food. Cutler and Danse told stories, most of them embarrassing the other, one of which involved a fresh scar now splitting Danse’s right eyebrow.

At the mention of his scar, Danse quickly swallowed the remaining vodka in his glass and rolled his eyes. “It was a miscalculation.”

“I’m sure there has to be a rule against drinking before training for that exact reason,” Amy scolded. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Cutler leaned back into his seat and sighed. “That he is. And it’s all because of me that he’s even still alive."

“I’m sure you’re quite the heroic babysitter."

Cutler leaned into Amy and Nora blushed, turning toward Danse to offer them a sliver of privacy. He still had that boyish smirk plastered across his face and damn if it didn't make her heart skip a beat.

“I’m glad to be back,” he mumbled, running his fingers down the exposed skin on her arm.

“Glad you were able to make it back mostly unscathed,” she teased.

The food at Gary’s Galley was unexceptional but it was the nicest place Rivet City had to offer. Even after nearly 8 months there, Nora had never stepped foot inside until now and she was ambivalent about ever returning but her company redeemed it.

Before the four left, Danse excused himself to pay and Nora leaned back in her chair, appetite sated and completely content. She allowed her eyes to close.

“Awww, jeez,” Cutler groaned.

“What?” she asked, shifting to see what he was staring at.

Danse stood at the bar, caps being counted by an employee, tense and conversing with a woman next to him. Leigh.

“Shit,” Amy sighed. “She doesn’t get it.”

Nora’s mind raced and her hands balled into fists. Leigh was testing her and she was aching to put the woman in her place the only way she knew how: combat. But she reminded herself she needed this place, her job, the stability. Of course, there were other ways of establishing herself. “Do you have a smoke?”

Cutler shook his head, confused. “What?” 

“I need a smoke,” she snapped.

He raised his hands in surrender and pulled a cigarette from his pack. “What are you doing?”

She barely heard him, already half way to Danse and Leigh. He registered her approach and faced her, fidgeting nervously, jaw taut.

“Sorry to interrupt. I just need a light, soldier boy.” She gestured to her cigarette and slid one hand into the front pocket of Danse’s jeans, feeling around for the lighter he carried. Heat colored his cheeks and Nora lifted the corner of her mouth. She pulled the metal rectangle up to her lips and locked eyes with Leigh as she ignited the cigarette, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes in contentment while the smoke burned her lungs.

She was going to regret allowing herself even one cigarette; she used to be addicted to the damn things but she told herself it was for a good cause. Leigh shifted uncomfortably.

Yes. A very good cause.

“Thank you.” She spun on her heel and returned to the table to Cutler and Amy, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

She stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray. “What?”

“Power move, Nora!” Cutler reached across the table to high five her.

The chair beside her screeched back and Danse sat, scratching at his stubble. “You told me you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t,” she shrugged.

He laughed and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Here’s your lighter back,” she whispered, pressing it gently into his hands.

The two couples went their separate ways after dinner. Nora led Danse through the old aircraft carrier to her room, noting he didn’t have a place to stay after giving up the room he’d shared with Cutler when they left the city. Her fingers fumbled with the key but she finally unlocked it and stepped through, Danse on her heels.

“This is it,” she said quietly, anticipating his reaction.

He walked the perimeter slowly, taking in every possession of hers carefully.

“I didn’t know this place was going to be inspected,” she shrugged out of her jacket and draped it over her small red couch. “I might’ve cleaned it up more.”

Her threw her an amused smile over his shoulder, hands running over the top of her dresser. “You can learn a lot about someone from their personal effects.”

Nora leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. “What did you learn?”

He put his hands in his pockets and faced her. He looked so suddenly serious. She wondered if he found something wrong, finally something he didn’t like.

He took one step towards her. Then another. And another until she could feel the hot breath that escaped his mouth brushing her cheeks. Her eyes couldn’t focus any more. “You’re orderly,” he leaned in and kissed her gently. “You’re not materialistic,” his lips moved to brush along her jaw and her eyelids fluttered in response. “And you really like comic books.”

She laughed, in a daze. “And I’m guessing you approve?”

He said nothing, just moved his mouth back to hers, an answer in and of itself. They kissed hesitantly at first, the months away from one another making contact tentative once more and they attempted to relearn everything they’d discovered in June. It didn’t take long and soon they were in uncharted territory, removing each other’s clothes and bodies thrusting together as they chased release.

He wasn't Nora's first but he was the first of his kind. Intuitive, tender, adoring like she was the only woman in the world. No, not her first but it was, she noticed, the first time she curled into warm arms afterwards and the first time she remembered feeling optimistic in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not really stressing about making Danse who he is in the game yet because this is young Danse and he’s about to go through some defining things so he’ll get there.
> 
> Also I know putting dates in this is gonna come back to bite me in the ass so if I screw up the timeline somehow, be a bro and let me know so I can fix stuff.
> 
> Definitely will update tags and characters as I figure out what’s going on.
> 
> Anywayyy leave me constructive criticism and/or reactions, it makes my heart so happy!
> 
> xoxo


	3. Seeds of Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora has an unfortunate past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn I might post a lot at first. I've got almost the entire first part already written so it's hard to wait to upload them.

**February 12, 2276**

Nora heard him before she saw him. 

Of course, she wasn’t sure what she was hearing at all. The heavy _thumps_ reverberated through the entire floor and she wondered if the ship was under attack or if perhaps this was what an earthquake felt like.

She gave up attempting to unlock her door in favor of searching for the source of the strange noise. When she looked behind her, she noticed an imposing figure at the other end of the hallway. Alongside him stood Cutler.

She gasped, taking a step in their direction.

“Power armor?” she shouted excitedly. 

The men stopped and she could make out a smile on Danse’s face.

“You made knight?!” she started to walk towards them but quickly broke out into a sprint, vaulting herself up towards Danse’s face with the handles on his suit. He was already 7 inches taller than her and the power armor only exaggerated their height difference but if she stood on his feet and lifted herself onto her toes, she was just able to reach his lips.

She kissed him passionately and he returned it, making up for the many months he’d been away. An armored hand pressed gently into her back.

Cutler sighed. “Man, maybe I should’ve brought mine back, too.”

Nora hesitantly pulled back, face bright. She hadn’t expected him back for another week and seeing him early felt so damn good. She was trying to get used to the idea that he was a soldier and that meant he might not come home one day so every time he did, she was elated. She checked his face for new scars and only noticed a few small ones. _Good_. She cleared her throat. “Congratulations. Both of you.”

Danse smiled wider, face still very close to hers.

Cutler jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Well I should, uh, go find Amy then.”

“Bye, Cutler,” Danse muttered. Without any warning, he scooped Nora up into his arms and thumped toward her door.

She turned the key in the lock, still in his arms. “Are you planning on storing that thing here?”

He closed the door behind them and set her on her feet. “Is that alright?”

She watched him exit the suit and close it back up, chewing her bottom lip. “It’s kind of creepy, don’t you think? Like another person in the room with us or something.”

He chuckled and kissed her head. “I can try to find somewhere else for it. I would’ve left it at the Citadel but I wanted to show you.”

She shook her head. “It can stay here. I just... maybe I can cover it with a blanket or something so it doesn’t... watch us.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear and his hand lingered on her face, heat prickling beneath his fingers. Every contact felt new when he was home because he was gone so long in between. The moment stretched on, both breathing just slightly heavier with desire.

His hand finally slid down her arm and to her hip. He pulled her toward himself, lips desperately seeking hers. She was happy to oblige.

His mouth never left hers, even as he backed up to sit on the side of her bed. She straddled him, fingers digging into his shoulders for support. 

There were small changes in him each time he came home as he became more and more of a soldier. The first thing she noticed was the way he spoke. Sometimes she’d ask him questions and he’d respond “affirmative” and then blush, forgetting he didn’t need to be so formal with her. She’d never minded; she found it endearing. Of course, his body had changed as well. He was always tall and lean but he’d built an impressive amount of muscle since joining the Brotherhood. What Nora noticed then, however, was how simultaneously polite and aggressive he had become when they were intimate. Sometimes he would pause, waiting for her permission to touch her, to be sure she was still okay with it all, and when she assented, he was forceful, rough even.

She wondered where it stemmed from. Did he feel as starved for affection as she did in the long stretches of time he was away? Or was battle becoming an integral part of him? She didn’t complain. He’d never hurt her and she liked the challenge, craved it even.

A majority of his leave was usually spent this way: bodies tangled in her bed. When they did decide to leave, they usually spent the time with Cutler and Amy and she grew to love them like a sort of family.

She said as much to Danse the night before he left as she crawled into bed and onto his chest.

Calloused fingers ran through her hair. “I’m glad you like them.”

They were silent for a few moments and Nora was nearly asleep when Danse spoke again. 

“Do you have family, Nora?”

She winced. The question was an impossible one, she felt. Of course she did, but... after almost a year with him, perhaps she owed him the truth. “I do,” she started, propping herself up on one elbow so she could gauge his reaction. Suddenly his gaze was suffocating. She dropped her eyes to stare at her hand on his chest and let out a shaky breath. “They, uh... they’re raiders.”

She looked up in time to catch his eyebrows raise. He said nothing, encouraging her to continue.

“I... grew up kind of normal, I guess. On a farm. But farming is hard and my mom developed a nasty chem addiction. Med-X. My dad was pissed at first but then he got into it too and...” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I think I was 13 when they decided to up and leave our farm and link up with some local raiders. The chem-heads only let us come because my parents had some untouched Jet they promised to share.

“I was scared of those damn junkies and I hated my parents for moving me away from that farm. I really liked helping take care of the animals there and when they decided to leave, they shot them all and traded the meat for more chems,” she sniffed back the developing tears. “The only thing I ever really got into was cigarettes. I was 14. I didn’t care as much about myself but... I have a sister. She’s 10 years younger than me.

“When I was 17, it occurred to me that I could steal enough supplies while everyone was high to keep myself and my sister alive until we found a place to stay. That I didn’t have to stay there forever. I was so fed up with all the violence, the fear... I waited until the last minute to tell my sister. I wasn’t sure how she’d react. Turns out she wanted to stay,” Nora choked, eyes distant. “She wanted to be with mom and dad.

“I tried to reason with her but none of it worked. And then I realized she was high too. They hooked my baby sister on fucking Jet at seven years old. I tried to drag her with me but she screamed and I knew I was missing my chance. I grabbed the backpack I’d filled with all the things I’d stolen and ran as fast as I could.”

Danse’s expression was pained as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Nora, I... I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”

“It’s okay. It’s the past. I’m okay.”

He gingerly wiped the few tears that had escaped from her eyes. “If you weren’t, that would be alright.”

She whimpered, biting down on her lip to dam the impending tide of emotion welling up inside her, threatening to overwhelm her, but Danse kissed her forehead and all her effort was undone. She melted into him, sobbing violently. His arms wrapped around her and he said nothing, just let her cry. Twenty minutes passed before she was able to breathe again, the tears slowing and her head pounding.

And then she was laughing, and the tears rolled once more. 

Danse sat up to examine her, eyebrows drawing together.

She shook her head, laughter still bubbling relentlessly. “I’m sorry, it’s just... I remembered when I left... I took all their psycho and a ton of... Med-X... and I used it to keep fires going at night... just because I could.”

His mouth tilted up. “How very Nora.”

She sighed, utterly exhausted from her outburst but feeling a strange sense of peace. She’d needed that, she guessed. She hadn’t let herself think about her family since she left them. Danse laid back down beside her and they stared up at the ceiling. His hand reached for hers and she laced their fingers together. “The Brotherhood... they kill raiders, right?”

He grew rigid beside her and nodded.

“Would they... if there was a kid with them...” she struggled.

“They wouldn’t shoot her, Nora.”

She squeezed his hand, only half convinced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get real.


	4. Love and Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality hits Danse hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. My heart.

**July 7, 2276**

The sweltering summer heat beat down on Danse, prickling the sunburn he’d already suffered on the back of his neck. He wiped the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand. He was so close to the cold relief that was Rivet City. So close to purified water and stimpacks. So close to Nora.

He’d had access to water and medicine aboard the Prydwen, of course. But he hadn’t taken it then; more accurately, he’d fought it off. He hadn’t wanted it in the moment though Knight-Captain Cade had been very persistent.

All he wanted was Cutler back.

He couldn’t have that. Not now that he’d killed him.

Agony ripped through his chest at the memory. He stopped just inside Rivet City and leaned against a wall to steady himself. He could feel the panic attack incoming, choking the air from his lungs.

It didn’t help that he was also drunk.

Passing settlers stared as he fought his urge to vomit, induced by the sickly green skin that overtook his vision whenever he closed his eyes.

He’d thought it was hard being a soldier. All the blood and death he’d encountered in the past year had wrecked his sleep and stole his appetite. But he knew what it was all for. He never imagined it would be fun. Just worth it.

Then he thought it was hard when Cutler disappeared. He grieved all the possibilities but only briefly. His panic-fueled determination convinced his commanding officer to let him put together a search team and he’d left sure that they’d find him alive. It was his last shred of hope and he’d never give it up unless he had to.

And then... reality had been worse than anything Danse had imagined. The only remaining member of the team that left the Prydwen a month prior on a scouting op was a mutant that used to be Cutler. Danse has been furious. All of his training had kicked in and he gunned down the monster, even as his old friend tried to say something to him. He didn’t stop shooting until his whole body was ash. With his remaining fury, he slaughtered the rest of the mutants and raided their belongings until he’d found Cutler’s holotags.

It was the least he could give Amy.

He’d been silent the rest of the way back, only speaking when absolutely necessary to his squad. Upon reporting to Paladin Krieg, he’d been given leave. He was sure he looked like hell.

He felt along the wall as he walked toward Rivet City bank, willing himself not to fall over. Not yet. He pulled open the heavy door and stumbled inside, falling on his knees because legs could no longer support the weight in his chest.

Nora jumped up from her chair. “Danse?”

He rubbed his hands over his face, attempting to hide the way his shoulders shook as tears spilled from his eyes. He felt so goddamn weak.

“Claude! Man the counter will you?!” Nora shouted over her shoulder as she rushed to Danse’s side, hands fluttering over him, wanting to do something helpful but not even knowing where to begin. “What the hell happened to you? I haven’t heard from you in weeks. Are you okay?”

He couldn’t speak, just pulled her into his chest as tight as he could. She rubbed soothing circles into his back and repeated “it’s going to be okay” so much that Danse could’ve believed it. When his eyes had dried up and he could breathe again, he reached into his chest pocket and pulled from it Cutler’s holotags.

She took them and ran her thumb over the name inscribed on them. Her eyes were wide and watery when she looked up at him. “He...” she trailed off, shaking her head vigorously. “What happened?”

He did his best to explain the situation without dissolving into tears again as he watched Nora fall apart.

The old man, Claude, approached where they sat on the floor and laid a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “Um... Miss Nora, you may be dismissed for the day. Please return when you’re ready.”

She nodded and Danse helped her stand. They supported each other as they walked out of the building. Soon they were at Amy’s door, both of their faces red and puffy.

Danse knocked twice and ran his hands through his hair, unsure what he would say.

He was surprised to know he didn’t need to say anything. When Amy opened the door and saw their faces, she burst into tears. Nora embraced her tightly and Danse stared at his boots. The alcohol made it seems as though the floor was tilting and his body hit the wall with a grunt.

Nora and Amy each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him into the room and onto a couch.

He couldn’t open his eyes. Exhaustion weighed his eyelids down like steel and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep. The kind he hadn’t experienced for months.

*

**July 9, 2276**

Brotherhood funerals were gloomy affairs. Few soldiers were ever able to attend one; duty always took precedence. Danse knew of a couple that had occurred since he joined but Cutler’s was the first he was able to witness.

A vertibird was sent from the citadel to Rivet City for Amy, Danse, and Nora: the only family Cutler had known. His parents had both died of illness years earlier and he’d never had any siblings but Danse had always felt like his brother.

He disembarked first when they arrived at the citadel and offered his hand to help Nora and Amy drop to the ground. The women were dressed in black, a prewar tradition of respect for the dead that had endured the nuclear blasts.

It was summer and the radiation had a way of making the climate constantly warm but Amy shivered anyway and Danse pulled her into a tight hug. He couldn’t imagine what her loss must have felt like, the emptiness it must have left in her. His wound was deep, the worst he’d ever felt, but he believed it must have paled in comparison to hers.

He pulled away and grabbed Nora’s hand as they walked toward where Elder Lyons stood just outside the Citadel. Danse didn’t think the old man ever missed the funeral of one of his soldiers. Whatever else was said about him, he was the most sincere person Danse had ever met and in that moment, that was all that mattered to him.

Introductions and apologies passed between those present. No tears were shed during the brief ceremony. Danse was sure they were tired of crying-he knew he was. Even when Amy was handed the neatly folded Brotherhood flag and the vase of Cutler’s ashes, she remained stoic. As soon as it was over, the three boarded another vertibird and returned home.

The evening found Danse on Nora’s couch cradling a bottle of whiskey and staring unseeing at the wall. He could barely hear the radio over the volume in his head, the sound of his laser rifle firing at his best friend on repeat. He took another swig of whiskey and pressed his palms into his eyes.

The couch creaked as Nora took her place next to him. “I washed the clothes you brought,” she said quietly.

He said nothing.

She crossed her legs and sighed. “Will you talk to me?”

He turned to face her, movements slow and effortful as he fought against the resistance of his drink.

She raised an eyebrow, mouth tightening into a line. “You’re drunk again.”

“Not drunk enough,” he slurred.

“I want to be understanding, Danse, I do. But if you’re going to turn into a fucking alcoholic-“

“It happened two weeks ago. I-“

“No. You deal with your shit sober like the rest of us or get the hell out of my house.”

“No one deals with things sober. If you think-“

He wasn’t prepared when she stood and ripped the bottle from his hands and slammed it against the wall, whiskey dripping down to the floor. He took in the shattered glass, eyes wide. He’d never seen her so upset, didn’t know it was possible.

She stared at him furiously but each breath she took softened her expression until she looked like she might collapse. “You’re drinking like my goddamned father so either stop poisoning yourself or leave.”

Danse rubbed his forehead. Of course. He knew he was being reckless but he never imagined he’d triggered such deja vu. He stood slowly, arms reaching for her. “Nor... I’m sorry.”

She took a step back, tears coating her cheeks. “You will not make me a widow like Amy, Danse. I will _not_ bury you.”

He took another step toward her and this time she let his arms encircle her, crying into his shoulder.

When she ran out of tears, Danse picked her up and set her on his lap. “When do you have to go back?” she whispered.

“Two days.”

Nora nodded and sighed.

He didn’t know if losing Cutler was making him confess to her or if her defeated expression coaxed him to give her something to hold onto while he was gone but he suddenly blurted, “Nora, I’m in love with you.”

She sat up in his arms, brown eyes combing over inch of his face looking for a hint of deceit. She found none and her eyes welled up with tears yet again. “I’m in love with you, too.” Her arms wrapped around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder.

He held her against him, impressing the feel of her body around his into his mind, a memento he’d carry into each battle: a reminder of what was at stake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to stay out of the politics of the BOS. I've read some works that can address it really well and I just know I couldn't so I avoided it altogether. This was a hard chapter to write so I hope I did okay.
> 
> xoxo


	5. Conflict of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora is torn.

**December 29, 2276**

“Hello, how can I help you?” Nora asked.

The redhead before her scanned the room and then settled her eyes on Nora. “I need to speak to Claude.”

She bristled. “He’s busy at the moment but I’m sure I can help you. 

The woman shook her head and pulled out a cigarette which she proceeded to light. “I’ll wait for him then.”

Nora hesitated before she left her seat to seek out Claude in his office. She rapped on his door and she heard him mutter “Yes, yes, come in.” 

She took only a single step into the room. “There’s a woman here, she insists she speak with you.”

His head shot up. “Ah, yes. Send her back to me please.”

Nora’s eyebrow raised. “You know if you’re expecting someone, it would be nice to know.”

He nodded absentmindedly as he cleared his desk of papers. “Yes, I’m sorry, Nora. These things do slip my mind at my age.”

She offered him a small smile and closed his door. When she returned, the woman was stubbing out her cigarette. “He’ll see you in his office.” She motioned for the woman to follow her.

Nora tried not to linger as she ushered the woman into Claude’s office but her curiosity was piqued. This was highly unusual; Claude never had visitors. She hadn’t even been sure Claude knew anyone besides herself.

“Ah, you must be Desdemona,” Claude’s voice drifted through the door.

Desdemona.

Nora pondered the encounter for the rest of the day, wondering what Claude was mixed up in. Something felt wrong and she couldn’t shake it.

When she locked the doors of the Rivet City bank that evening, she sighed in relief that she’d endured another tortuous day. She began reviewing the day’s deposits and withdrawals when Claude appeared.

“Miss Nora, I’ll be on my way. Please lock the doors again behind me.”

She nodded and followed him to the entrance, wishing him a good night. When she was alone, she returned to her closing rituals. She was nearly ready to leave when she passed a holotape on the floor just inside Claude’s office. The man was usually entirely tidy and she pondered whether or not this tape was related to thevisitor he had today. Curiosity got the better of her and she leaned down to inspect it.

_Join the Railroad._

She picked it up and ran her fingers over it. The Railroad... as in... the synth smugglers? She frowned and looked over her shoulder. No one was watching of course. She didn’t have a terminal at home so she made her way to Claude’s office terminal and tentatively sat in his chair.

After a few moments of silent indecision, Nora slid the holotape into the terminal and waited as it loaded. When the [play holotape] option popped up, she quickly clicked it.

“ _Many times in the history of the United States have groups of sentient beings been labeled non-persons, deemed unfit for life and liberty, been abused and harmed. It was once believed that women were less than men because the circumference of their head was smaller on average. It was once accepted that the color of your skin made you more or less worthy of basic human rights. History always repeats itself..._

“ _Today, synths are targeted and killed because they originated in a lab. The Railroad sees this all too often. But when synths are shot, red blood pours from their bodies, they suffer, they beg for help just like any of us would. They love and form bonds with others just like we do. They long to be free just like we do. T_ _he Institute is a menace, enslaving these living beings and exploiting them for their own twisted purposes. The Railroad won’t stand for such injustice. And if you’re hearing this, we’re asking for your help. Make this godforsaken wasteland something better, a place where all peaceful beings can coexist._

" _Join the Railroad_.”

A click signaled the end of the holotape. Nora stared at her hands. The voice that recruited her was the same she’d heard just hours before, demanding to see Claude.

So he was working with the Railroad.

Nora knew she was biased against them. She hadn’t heard of them before and she still wasn’t certain what they did but she’d heard about synths. Danse despised them, “technology run amok” he’d say. She’d listened and agreed.

She felt the pull to dismiss the tape and the Railroad altogether. But... was Desdemona telling the truth? Synths could... bleed? She’d never seen one before. Or had she? Could she have spoken with a synth and not known it?

She shouldn’t be having such a moral conflict. She trusted Danse and she had no reason to believe this woman. But why didn’t Danse tell her if synths really possessed such humanity? Perhaps he couldn’t acknowledge it, not if he was going to be actively killing them.

Was he actively killing them? She knew he had killed them before but he’d always described them as mechanical, metal, robotic. Who was lying?

She ejected the holotape and shoved it in the pocket of her jacket.

She stepped into Rivet City, locking the doors of the bank behind her. She walked home distracted and thoroughly confused and the questions she’d raised didn’t leave her mind that night.

She dreamt of cold metal.

*

**December 30, 2276**

Nora found herself before the doors of the bank 10 minutes earlier than usual. She slipped the key in the lock and the doors creaked as she shoved past them. 

Claude peeked out from his office. “Miss Nora! You’re early.”

“Yes,” she replied, nearing his doorway. “I needed to speak with you.”

He raised a white eyebrow. “I see. Sit,” he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

She smoothed her skirt and did as she was told.

He looked at her expectantly, calculating.

She cleared her throat. “Who was that woman yesterday?”

“Oh,” he murmured, licking his lips and deciding how much to reveal. “I’m afraid I’m... not at liberty to discuss that at the moment.”

Nora nodded, crossing one leg over the other and carefully considering her next question. “What are... I mean, have you ever seen a... synth?”

He leaned forward. “Why are you asking?”

She debated her options, deciding honesty would work best with Claude. “I... I found this holotape,” she produced the propaganda from her jacket.

His eyes widened. “Yes, well... I... We do, erm... handle some accounts for the Railroad.”

She placed the holotape down in front of him and he quickly snatched it away and tucked it into his desk. Nora rubbed her eyes. She’d tossed and turned the night before, consumed with the ideas Desdemona had implanted in her. She just wanted to know the truth but Claude was less cooperative than she’d hoped.

“Miss Nora... It really is of the utmost importance that this information never leaves this room. Consider it confidential.”

 “Of course,” she whispered. “Who would-“ It suddenly dawned on her that he distrusted her because of her relationship with Danse. “You think I’ll tell him,” she stated.

He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what you’d do, Miss Nora, but I need to protect my clients.”

A short laugh escaped her. “No, I’m... Claude, I’m just... is she telling the truth? Can synths... are they... they-“

“Can they bleed? Can they feel things? Can they love?” He finished for her, sensing how torn she was.

She nodded.

He smiled, bright and genuine. “Does he know you’re quite... unconvinced of the Brotherhood narrative?”

She shook her head, silver hoops swinging wildly. “I haven’t... he’s only told me some things but... everything is... contradicting. I just want the truth.”

He threw his head back in laughter. “Miss Nora, I’m a synth.”

She sat up straight, eyes narrowing. She looked him up and down. “No, you... I’ve... what?”

Claude’s blue eyes crinkled in amusement.

“You look... so real,” she breathed.

“I am real,” he exclaimed. “I escaped the Institute 23 years ago and the Railroad escorted me all the way up to the Capital Wasteland so I wouldn’t be hunted down. Sometimes they wipe your memory so you can live a more normal life. I chose to keep mine. I wanted to assist them and I needed to remember what they did for me.”

Nora blanched.

“I’m real, Nora. I care about this cause, I care about this city, I care about you,” he placed his hand over hers. “I know I seem aloof and I’m an intolerable man to work for,” he chuckled, “but you’re the closest thing to a daughter I’ve ever had. You must know that.”

She looked down at her lap, trying to hide the tears that were falling. Imaging Danse with a gun to Claude’s head was too much. He wouldn’t, would he? “Danse said... he says synths are machines. The way he described them, like they looked like robots...” she sniffled.

“Some of the earlier models do look like hunks of metal. But the gen 3 synths... well, they look like me.”

She bit her nails, avoiding his gaze. “Does he... do you think he... kills gen 3 synths, Claude?”

His expression turned somber and he nodded. “I’d be surprised if he doesn’t.”

She looked over his face, squinting, hoping to find a gear she’d missed or a screw visible. She found nothing and sighed in exasperation.

Neither spoke and the humming of the terminal was audible, the loudest noise in the room.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Claude?” her eyes implored him to give her direction. She didn’t want to be forced to choose between what she was increasingly sure was right and good and the life she’d established for herself, the one she loved. 

Claude shrugged. “No one can tell you that, Nora. You have to do whatever you have to do so that you can live with yourself.”

She scoffed and shook her head. Her fingers picked at the edge of her skirt.

They sat in the discomfort that permeated the atmosphere, both grasping the depth of the impossible decision looming over Nora; justice-oriented, strong-willed, passionate Nora. They both knew what she would choose, what she had to choose. Once she’d understood the reality of the situation, her mind was made up.

That didn’t make it any easier.

Claude stood, eyes studying her. “Well. We’re late to open. Would you care to unlock the doors?”

She rose and crossed the distance between them. Nora embraced the old man, the man she too had come to see as a father figure. He patted her back reassuringly. 

She broke away and turned to leave, not wanting to dwell any longer on Desdemona or synths or the Railroad.

She opened the doors and sat at the counter, face blank and mind reeling.  


	6. A Clean Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora follows her moral compass and not her heart.

**January 26, 2277**

Nora’s footsteps echoed in the emptiness of her home. She looked sadly at the bare metal walls, disbelieving that she’d really done it.

She’d really sold almost all of her belongings, had really contacted Desdemona and joined the Railroad. And now she was moving to the Commonwealth to assist in the liberation of synths from the tyranny of the Institute.

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. The small room felt colder without the fixtures that normally graced it. It felt like removing memories: the jewelry box Amy had given her for her birthday, the dresser she’d dug through each morning as she dressed for her dreaded shift at the bank, the couch where she and Danse had first made love. All gone.

The only thing that remained was her bed.

She supposed she needed the fresh start anyway, a clean break from the meaningless life she’d lived in Rivet City. She wouldn’t miss the aircraft carrier. The only thing she’d ever cared about there were the few people she’d loved: Claude, Amy, Cutler...Danse.

As if on cue, there was a hard knock at the door. She froze, breath caught in her throat. Every second that passed stole a little of the resolve she’d been building up for the past month. She had to do it. Answer the door and just do it.

Another knock. She jumped and rushed to open the door. Danse burst through and instantly his hands were at her waist, lifting her off the ground. “Beautiful woman,” he growled, mouth pulled back in a luminous grin.

She smiled back sadly. He had always been warm, comforting, but now it was too much, the blaze too intense .The way he looked at her was torching her, burning her alive and she deserved it. 

He set her down, analyzing her carefully. “Are you alright, Nor? Your letter was short.”

“I’m fine. Just kiss me, please.”

He looked uncertain but dropped his duffel bag and leaned in anyway, lips pressing gently into hers. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue and he groaned into her mouth, one hand pulling her hips into his and the other wrapping in her ponytail.

They stumbled backward, seeking the bed. The mattress collided with Nora’s thighs and she fell backward. Danse reached for the zipper on his flight suit but he stopped when he noticed the distinct lack of furniture in the room. “Where is everything?”

She sat up, mouth open because she _had_ to tell him but she forgot how to speak.

“Nora.” He kneeled until they were level, until brown eyes singed her and left only the charred remnants behind. “Are you leaving me?”

“No,” she gasped, stroking his cheek, engraving the feeling of his stubble against her fingertips into her brain. Moisture pooled in her eyes and she blinked it away. “Of course not.”

“Then what is it?”

She took a few shaky breaths. Best to rip the bandage off. “I... joined the Railroad.”

“You what?”

“I just... I heard about synths-“

“From who?” he sneered.

Her sadness morphed into furious resentment. “Not you. Why does it matter?”

“What the hell do you mean, not me? I told you everything, Nora.”

“Everything?” she spat. “You fed me bullshit, Danse. You _never_ told me how realistic gen 3s are, how they bleed-“

“How is that relevant?” he shouted, running his hands through his hair. He stood and turned his back to her, arms crossed over his chest. “Jesus, Nora.”

“I’m sorry. I have to do what I think is right.”

She was begging him to understand but he was unchanging, unflinchingly rigid.

"You... you didn't even talk to me about this. Why didn't you talk to me about this?"

"I've heard it already, Danse. You spout propaganda all the time."

"Propoganda?!"

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Nora recoiled from his wrath. She was taken aback by his instant change in emotion towards her. They'd had their share of disagreements-Regular Nuka-Cola or Cherry, how much to invest in a bigger bed so Danse didn't hang over the sides of hers when he was home, the time Nora ate the last snack cake in Danse's stash without asking. But everything they fought about was inconsequential, dwarfed by the overpowering passionate commitment they held for one another. Now that passion, the one she'd seen so obviously overflowing from his buoyant smile and radiating from caramel eyes when he'd swept her up into his eager arms only minutes before, was noticeably absent, replaced by a coldness she'd never received from him. It looked something like hatred and dread coiled up her spine.

"I didn't mean... Look, can we just talk about this? Normally?" she pleaded.

He closed his eyes. "Talk. Explain."

"It's not like I went looking for them. I just... I stumbled onto a holotape and I listened. I didn't know what the Railroad was. But when she talked about synths begging for their lives and forming bonds-"

"Who did?"

"What?"

"Who's 'she'?"

Nora didn't answer, realized she didn't trust that Danse wouldn't take Desdemona's name and use it to track her down. She shot him a desperate look. "Please, Danse..."

He sucked in a breath as understanding broke through. "I see."

“I’m sorry. This can still work. If we-“

A raised hand cut her off. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

"If you love me-"

"I did, Nora! More than anything!"

 _Did._ He was really that far gone from her. A few tears finally escaped, slid down Nora's cheek and his eyes followed them, not making a move to dry them like he usually would.

Danse chuckled, the sound humorless. “How could you do this to me? How could you betray me like this and then expect us to just... move past it?”

“I didn’t betray-“

He swung his duffel bag over his should and stalked toward the door.

“Danse...” she whimpered. “At least stay here. I left the bed for you because you always-“

“I’ll stay with Amy,” he clipped.

And he was gone.

Nora collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor, dissolving into tears. She stayed like that until she ran out of time. Taking one last look around, she closed the door on her life in Rivet City and sulked toward the place she where she'd been instructed to meet the Railroad agent.

*

**May 9, 2277**

Desdemona took a drag from her cigarette. “So you’re Nora. Nice to meet you. Again.”

Nora offered a weak smile.

“I, uh...” the Railroad leader placed her hand awkwardly on Nora’s shoulder. “I spoke with Claude. He told me how much you’ve already sacrificed for our cause.”

She closed her eyes. They burned with the exhaustion of every sleepless night she’d suffered since Rivet City, since she'd been drained of her joy and left hollow. “You don’t have to-“

“The bottom line is that it would’ve been easier to do nothing. But you chose this.” She gestured around them at the concrete walls of the Switchboard. “You’re strong. I’m glad to have you on our team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an end and a beginning.
> 
> Part 2 will start up soon.
> 
> xoxo


End file.
